


a place beyond the grind and the hurry

by grantairrible



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Fluff, Multi, Nonbinary Grantaire, Pining Enjolras, Trans Enjolras, possibly excessive coffee consumption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 20:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8910775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grantairrible/pseuds/grantairrible
Summary: Enjolras had been attending the Combeferre family’s Christmas celebration for years now, after refusing to join his biological family’s festivities, but this was the first time Combeferre was bringing someone home with him. Or rather, someone he was dating, since he’d technically brought Enjolras home with him a bunch of times.A Christmas fic in which Enjolras is tired and feelings are hard.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Tinpan Orange's 'Peppercorn Trees'.

“Enjolras, are you ready to go?”

Enjolras lifted his face from his pillow. “Does it _look_ like I’m ready?” The same thing happened every year - Combeferre would always ask the same question, as though he hadn’t just woken Enjolras. It was tradition, and at this time of year, tradition was important.

Well, for the most part.

It wasn’t like Enjolras was a stickler for tradition for tradition’s sake, but it was nice to have these little things to always expect, to slip into familiarity and comfort.

Combeferre laughed, like he always did. “Get up and get ready. We can have breakfast on the road.” That went without saying, but perhaps Combeferre wasn’t saying it for Enjolras’ benefit.

“That’s some serious bedhead, dude.”

Enjolras dropped his face back against his pillow. There was the break in tradition themselves: Grantaire, who had started dating Combeferre this year. It wasn’t that Enjolras had anything against Grantaire because they were dating Combeferre, he would just rather be dating Combeferre himself. And he also kind of wanted to kiss Grantaire. It was complicated. Enjolras had been attending the Combeferre family’s Christmas celebration for years now, after refusing to attend his biological family’s festivities, but this was the first time Combeferre was bringing someone home with him. Or rather, someone he was dating, since he’d technically brought Enjolras home with him a bunch of times.

Basically, Enjolras was tired and feelings were hard. “Coffee,” was all he could manage to say. “Please.”

“On the kitchen bench,” Combeferre replied, “in a thermos so you can drink it in the car after your nap. I’ve got it sorted. Go shower.”

Enjolras revived a little with a shower, emerging in a fluffy towel with his hair damp and curling around his shoulders. “Why do we always have to leave so early?”

“Combeferre’s out putting the bags in the car.”

“Oh.” Enjolras looked around, and sure enough, he and Grantaire were the only people in the room. A fact that Grantaire was apparently uncomfortable with, given their sudden refusal to meet his gaze. “Well, this is the part where Combeferre would say _tradition_.”

Grantaire grinned, and Enjolras was struck by the annoying urge to kiss them. “Christmas is really a thing for you two, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras said, and smiled to himself, remembering years of the golden glow of a holiday he would usually hate on principle.

“I’m sorry for intruding.”

 _What?_ Actually, no, that was an appropriate thing to say out loud. “What?”

“It’s always been your thing. I’m sorry if I’m ruining that by intruding.”

“You’re not,” Enjolras said. He’d actually been looking forward to this holiday, minus the whole repressed feelings thing. Grantaire was great company, when they weren’t drunk and argumentative, and they had become less of a dick at meetings since they started dating Combeferre. “Like, seriously, Grantaire. It’s not even that I don’t mind you being around, I like spending time with you.”

“Oh.” Grantaire turned pink, and _why were they so cute_. “I, uh, wasn’t sure you actually liked me?”

“I’m sorry.” Enjolras didn’t try to offer an explanation, not wanting to cheapen the apology. Grantaire took it in their stride and shrugged.

“I know now, it’s cool. My brain can be dumb. Friends, yeah?”

“Friends,” Enjolras agreed, despite the fact that there were so many other things he wanted along with friendship. Friendship was a good place to start, even though they’d been orbiting around each other too long for anything this late to be a start. “I’d better keep getting ready, but remember what I said.”

“Can do, cap’n.

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he headed back to his room to get changed.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras usually slept in the car, pillow propped against the passenger window, some program or podcast droning away in the background, Combeferre quiet and beautiful as he concentrated on the road.

This time, Enjolras volunteered to sit in the backseat, watching through slitted lids as Grantaire reached across the console, placing their hand on Combeferre’s thigh. Enjolras’ hand was on his own leg without him consciously placing it there, but once he realised its presence he could almost imagine the warmth through his jeans was from another body.

“I don’t know, man, something about this seems kind of fucked up,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras cracked open an eyelid, curious to see what could be so heinous as to inspire Grantaire’s unease. “Like, a girl died, her family aren’t going to want a spectacle to be made about it after so long. I mean, I’m all for justice being served, or whatever, but public speculation about a murder is a bit… I don’t know. Uncomfy.”

“Yeah,” Combeferre said, turning to face Grantaire, his expression impossible to make out from this angle, “I get where you’re coming from. We can put something other than _Serial_ on, if you want.”

Grantaire shrugged. “I mean, it’s already been done, and it is actually super interesting. So.”

Enjolras let his eyes fall shut. Of course Grantaire wouldn’t put morality above personal enjoyment.

He hated that something deep inside of him was indulgently amused at the thought.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras woke to find that he was drooling on his pillow, and blinked his eyes open at the sound of quiet snickering. Grantaire was turned around in their seat, unashamedly filming Enjolras on their phone.

Enjolras groaned and buried his face in the pillow. “Fuck off, R.” His voice was muffled.

Grantaire laughed. “Okay, I’ve stopped filming.”

Enjolras wasn’t really annoyed - he wasn’t _that_ much of a buzzkill - but he opened an eye with as much wrath as he could muster. “That video will never see the light of day.”

“Okay,” Grantaire said breezily, “the video won’t.”

Enjolras groaned. “There’s a photo of me on snapchat, isn’t there.”

“Yup.”

“You’re the worst.”

Grantaire placed a hand on their chest, mock offended. “And here I was, going to buy you snacks when we stop at the service station.”

“You’re the best.”

Combeferre snorted. He somehow made it look almost elegant. “And you’re a fickle creature.”

“Hey, it’s conventional wisdom that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Enjolras replied.

“I forgot you’re the most stereotypical guy in the handbook. Practically the definition of ‘everyman’, you are,” Combeferre said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “He loves anything with salted caramel, ‘Aire, if you’re in the mood for some romancing.”

Grantaire laughed, and Enjolras’ stomach dropped. He knew it was a joke, but it was just another stark reminder that Combeferre and Grantaire were happy together, and Enjolras was the intruder here. He reached for the thermos of coffee Combeferre had packed for him, and used that as excuse to retreat from the conversation, letting their flirtatious banter wash over him.

 

* * *

 

“Cheer up, munchkin,” Grantaire said, tossing a paper bag into Enjolras’ lap. “Salted caramel, as promised.”

Enjolras pulled out a doughnut and grinned. “A person after my own heart.”

“You wish,” Grantaire said, but something was off about their smirk.

“Thanks,” Enjolras said, after a too-long beat of silence. “I knew bringing you along was a good idea.”

Grantaire softened, their lashes long as they blinked at Enjolras. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Enjolras bit into the doughnut and licked sugar off his lips. “Combeferre never buys me doughnuts.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Grantaire replied, but laughed. “I’m not bankrolling your sugar habit. I’d make a joke here about sugar daddies if I knew of a good nb alternative.”

“Let me think on it. I’ve never been able to turn down an opportunity for a pun.”

“Enjolras. That goes without saying.”

“Like you can talk,” Enjolras said, and took a bite out of his doughnut to emphasise his point.

Combeferre returned from paying for the petrol with coffees in hand, and Enjolras didn’t think he’d ever adored either of them more.

This was going to be a problem.

* * *

 

Since Enjolras was fully awake, they turned off the podcasts, and Grantaire plugged in their phone.

“I hope you realise I made a roadtrip playlist,” Grantaire said, as they scrolled through their phone. “Bossuet and Courfeyrac helped me.”

“I swear to God, Grantaire-” Combeferre said, but a smile stretched wide across his face.

“It’s not bad, I promise! They made me leave out the _Shrek_ soundtrack. Although I do maintain that’s a work of art,” Grantaire replied, and hit play. Some kind of vaguely familiar classic rock song that Enjolras couldn’t name started playing, and Enjolras settled in to listen, the weak winter sun breaking through the window and warming his skin as the glass kept out the chill of the wind. Grantaire’s hand was back on Combeferre’s thigh, but Enjolras was warm enough from the sun to miss body heat too much.

 

* * *

 

“So you and Enjolras would be the last people I’d imagine to be super into Christmas, what’s that about?”

Enjolras was half asleep, barely registering what Grantaire was saying, happy to let the conversation wash over him as he dozed.

“It’s not about Christmas itself. My family’s not religious, so it was never about that, and we’re both obviously against the whole consumerist side of it. I get why you might be confused. It’s just… nice. I love my family a lot, and it’s a way to spend time together with some silly themed traditions.”

Grantaire sighed, a wistful sound even to Enjolras’ mostly unconscious ears. “I wish I’d had something like that growing up. My parents aren’t the worst, but we’ve never been close. I’d have loved to have a sister, but I wouldn’t want to wish my siblinghood on anyone.”

“Any sister would have been lucky to have you.”

“Sure.” Grantaire didn’t sound convinced. “Tell me about yours? Enjolras seems really fond of her.”

“She’s great. Don’t tell her that.”

Enjolras stirred awake enough to speak. “She helped me a lot when I was thinking about coming out and transitioning and everything, since she’d gone through it all herself. My parents didn’t take it well, but…”

“Mine did,” Combeferre said softly. “And hence why Enjolras comes to Christmas at our place.”

“So you were disowned?” Grantaire asked. “That sucks, I’m really sorry.”

“Nah,” Enjolras replied. “I disowned them.”

 

* * *

 

“We’re here.”

Enjolras jolted out of his daze, blinking into awareness. The car slowed to a stop out the front of a pleasant home, cottage garden mostly dormant but for a few winter blooms. He’d grown up away from this place, and Paris would always hold his heart, but coming here always felt like coming home. The last remnants of post-exams anxiety he’d been holding onto fell away as he got out of the car, helping Combeferre with the bags.

Grantaire looked as though they had taken up Enjolras’ anxiety, jittery and nervous, fingers twitching at their sides until Combeferre took their hand.

“They’ll love you,” Combeferre said, and kissed their cheek. “I do, so they will too.”

“They will,” Enjolras agreed. Not only were Combeferre’s mothers and sister the loveliest people he’d ever met, but Grantaire could be extremely charming and likeable when the mood took them. “Shall we?”

Grantaire grimaced. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Come on then, grumpyhead.”

Enjolras turned to fiddle with his bag, and pretended to miss the soft _I love you too_ Grantaire murmured as they turned their head to catch another of Combeferre’s intended cheek kisses on the lips.

“Enjolras!” The door burst open and a girl came sprinting out, knocking the air out of Enjolras as he was enveloped in a tight hug. One of the great things about not being related to what was essentially your family was that it wasn’t as weird to be referred to by your surname. It was always strange to refer to Combeferre as Adrien whenever they came home for Christmas.

“Hi, Aurelie,” Enjolras said, returning the hug. He shot a smug smile at Combeferre, who was always mock-offended that his sister was always more excited to see Enjolras than him. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too. I suppose I should say hi to my nerd brother,” Aurelie said, reluctantly disengaging herself to hug Combeferre, who was waiting with raised brows. Combeferre’s mothers, Delphine and Helene, were watching on as amusedly as ever. “And his… datefriend, yeah? Or do you prefer partner?”

“Um.” Grantaire’s brows were higher than Combeferre’s, not expecting this onslaught of affection. “Usually go with partner but I’m not fussed.”

“Cool.” Aurelie said, and shot them finger guns. “It’s nice to meet you, Grantaire.”

“You too.” Grantaire was sincere, if a little overwhelmed.

 

After a slightly more sedate welcome from Combeferre’s mothers, as well as a tour around the house for Grantaire, they set down the bags and settled in for tea and slightly burnt biscuits courtesy of Aurelie. She’d obviously improved her cooking skills since last year - the biscuits had never actually been edible before.

Enjolras had rarely seen Grantaire so quiet, but he knew by now that Grantaire wasn’t always brash and overconfident, that they were softer and gentler whenever they were talking to someone they cared about. That had ramifications for Enjolras, considering some of their past interactions, but he really didn’t want to think about Grantaire’s potential feelings for him while Combeferre was literally introducing them to his family as his partner.

“So, Grantaire,” Helene was saying, when Enjolras tuned back into the conversation, “what do you do with yourself?”

“I, uh-” Grantaire glanced at Combeferre for encouragement. “I’m a student as well, studying fine art and classics. I work at a cafe near uni.” Usually they would throw in something about how useless their degree would be at finding a job, but today they limited their answer to the bare bones.

“How wonderful,” Helene said, with a genuine smile that made Grantaire relax infinitesimally. “Delphine studied art for a while.”

“I thought I was going to be a children’s illustrator,” Delphine said, with a laugh. “I learnt very quickly that I don’t have the patience for it, so I respect you a great deal for that.”

“I- Thank you.” Grantaire might usually have rambled about their lack of patience, and the number of times they had nearly dropped out, but instead blushed and glanced down, hiding a small smile. Enjolras, in return, hid one of his own. He hadn’t thought for a minute that Combeferre’s family would dislike Grantaire, but seeing Grantaire’s quiet pleasure was another thing entirely.

 

* * *

 

They had all just finished unpacking when there was a knock on the door, and Aurelie stepped through before any of them could even respond.

“I was going to pick up some food and stuff for movie night, and I was wondering if Enjolras wanted to come along?” Aurelie said, her glance flicking over to Combeferre and Grantaire before coming back to rest on Enjolras. He took it for what it was - an opportunity for him and Aurelie to catch up, and to give the two lovebirds some space together.

“Sure,” Enjolras said, snagging his coat from where he’d just hung it up. “Any requests, you two?”

“Let me guess,” Grantaire said, “there’s a usual array of snacks that you adhere to because of tradition?”

“You got us,” Aurelie said, and grabbed Enjolras’ arm to drag him out of the room. “We’ll be back in an hour or so. Mum and Maman have their volunteer shift at the shelter, so it’ll just be you two until we get back.” Grantaire turned pink, obviously realising that Aurelie was making sure they knew that they had the house to themselves. Subtlety was not one of Aurelie’s strong points.

 

* * *

 

Aurelie managed the drive in silence, but they had barely stepped into the supermarket when she burst. “So... where did Grantaire come from? All of us thought you and Combeferre were a sure thing.”

Enjolras shrugged. “I kind of thought it was going to happen eventually, but obviously I waited too long before saying anything, and he moved on.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Aurelie said, piling junk food into her basket. “But how do you feel about Grantaire?”

“I-” Enjolras turned pink, stammering for the right words. He cursed his lack of a poker face.

“I thought so,” Aurelie said, with a wink. “Surely you’ve noticed the way Grantaire looks at you.”

Enjolras could be bad at emotions sometimes, but not _that_ bad. “It would be hard not to, but I don’t want to come between them and Combeferre.”

“I think they would both be very happy indeed for you to come between them, if you know what I mean.”

Enjolras made a face. “Let’s go and find that popcorn your brother likes.”

“You can’t avoid this conversation forever,” Aurelie sang, as they headed down the aisle.

Enjolras was excellent at ignoring his feelings when he didn’t want to face them. “Try me.”

 

* * *

 

Grantaire’s hair was a mess when they returned, and Enjolras tried not to imagine what kind of activities they’d been up to with Combeferre that would have resulted in its dishevelled state. He failed spectacularly.

Combeferre and Grantaire were meant to be past the honeymoon phase, but apparently that didn’t stop them from almost constantly tormenting Enjolras once he’d realised his attraction for them.

Grantaire dragged a hand through their curls, restoring them to their usual artful chaos, and Enjolras turned away.

 

* * *

 

“We’re watching _Love Actually_?”

Aurelie grinned at Grantaire’s expression. “It is, unfortunately, nowhere near queer enough for the viewing audience, and don’t even get me started on the whole scene with Mark, but… we have a soft spot for it. Feel free to nitpick the shit out of it with us.”

“I can do that,” Grantaire said, and tucked their feet up on the couch under Combeferre’s thighs.

“Fucking hell, ‘Aire, put some socks on. I can feel how cold your feet are through my pants.” They were cute pants, too, pyjamas with little reindeers all over them, a present from Joly last year.

“But my socks are all the way upstairs.”

Combeferre sighed and reached for the popcorn. “Fine. Now, please back me up on this, because I’ve always been outnumbered: _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ , Halloween or Christmas movie?”

“Dude. Both, obviously.”

“Close enough,” Combeferre said, slinging an arm around Grantaire and settling back against the couch. His other arm brushed Enjolras’ as he sank back, and Enjolras couldn’t quite bring himself to move away. “We’re watching it next, since these two insist it’s a Christmas movie. I think they’re just using that as an excuse to watch it, but I’m not one to complain.”

Aurelie turned around from where she’d been plugging her computer into the TV, and frowned. “You’re disgustingly cute together.”

Enjolras patted the spot on his other side. “Come be bitter and single with me.”

Grantaire laughed. “That’s not like you.”

“I do have  _some_ sense of humour, you know.”

 

* * *

 

They watched movies until past two in the morning, when they retired to bed. Enjolras usually just shared with Combeferre, but for obvious reasons he wouldn’t this year. Instead, a trundle bed had been made up for him, and while it wasn’t uncomfortable, per se, it wasn’t the same. The sheets were cold without Combeferre’s body heat, and they couldn’t have half-asleep whispered conversations until they became so tired they were incoherent. Instead, Enjolras climbed into his small bed and turned his back so he didn’t have to see Combeferre and Grantaire pressed together, the streetlight shining through the gaps of the curtains and illuminating slivers of the vague shapeless mass of the two of them spooning. Enjolras could still picture it easily enough, and sleep was a long time coming that night.

 

* * *

 

When Enjolras woke, the room was dark and silent. He sat up, only to find Combeferre's bed empty. Enjolras was cold in the morning air, and reached for his jumper, which he’d left slung over Combeferre’s desk chair. He put it on, only to find that it was not, in fact, his jumper. It was quite a bit too long for him, the sleeves dangling to his fingertips, and there was some vague, indefinable scent that clung to it. Enjolras indulged himself for a moment, lifting the collar up to his nose and inhaling deeply. Then he decided to snap the fuck out of it, and took the jumper off, grabbing his own one off the chair before replacing Combeferre’s.

Enjolras didn’t think of it again until Combeferre came downstairs that evening wearing the jumper, and Helene raised an eyebrow. “Is that new?”

“It’s Grantaire’s,” Combeferre said, tugging at the hem. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Something warm kindled in Enjolras’ chest, and yet he was struck with the sudden urge to drop his head onto the kitchen table.

“You joining us for stargazing?” Aurelie asked Enjolras, snapping him out of his reverie with a poke to the shoulder.

“Of course,” Enjolras replied, forcing a smile onto his face.

 

* * *

 

Stargazing was wonderful and terrible, lying in a field that belonged to someone in Combeferre’s extended family, listening to Combeferre and Grantaire swap more and more obscure myths. Enjolras was silent the entire way home, recalling Grantaire’s soft smile as Combeferre’s voice dropped to a murmur, or the love in Combeferre’s eyes as Grantaire told myths in a manner that was certainly not traditional, but nonetheless entertaining.

“You alright?” Combeferre asked, as they got ready for bed.

“I’m fine,” Enjolras said. “Just tired.” The age old lie that nobody believed. Combeferre knew better than to push the point, thankfully.

Grantaire returned from brushing their teeth, and Enjolras took it as his opportunity to escape. When he returned, Combeferre and Grantaire were engaged in what was assumedly a goodnight kiss, and Enjolras turned out the lights on his way to his lonely bed, his stomach twisting into knots. He was physically tired, but his mind didn’t want to shut up, and he spent what felt like hours staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come.

It wasn’t that Enjolras was mad at Grantaire for sleeping up on Combeferre’s bed, or that he really minded sleeping on the trundle bed for a week or so, it was just… he wanted to join them in Combeferre’s bed. Not kick Grantaire out and have Combeferre to himself, which was what he would have thought he’d wanted only a short time ago, but sleep up there with both of them. Or do things other than sleeping. Which Combeferre and Grantaire appeared to be doing themselves right at that very moment.

Shit.

Enjolras could picture it as he heard them kiss, his back turned to them, breathing slow so they would think he was asleep. He’d seen them kiss countless times before, had walked in on them making out on the couch more often than he’d imagined possible, almost as if they _wanted_ him to walk in on them. But that was wishful thinking; it wasn’t as though Courfeyrac didn’t also walk in on the two of them. Grantaire wouldn’t arch against Combeferre like they always did if it were for Enjolras’ benefit, and Combeferre wouldn’t let out that deep hum of contentment.

Which he was doing right now.

The sheets shifted, bodies moving against each other, and Enjolras wondered if he was really going to lie there while Combeferre and Grantaire had sex in the same room as him.

“We can’t,” Combeferre gasped. “Enjolras-”

Grantaire let out a soft groan. “I know, I just. Fuck.”

“I’m going to go and get some water, and we can both… calm down a little.”

“Good idea. I’ll make it up to you in the morning.” Enjolras could hear the smirk in Grantaire’s voice. “Blow you in the shower?”

“Not helping, R.”

Even when Combeferre returned and all that was audible was soft breathing, sleep continued to elude Enjolras.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras was once again the last to wake, and descended still in his pyjamas, snuggled into his own jumper - he’d made sure to place it next to his bed this time - to find Aurelie doing the crossword with her mothers.

“Morning,” she said, filling in the last square with a triumphant flourish. “Coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Enjolras said, running a hand through the mess of his hair.

Aurelie laughed. “You’re too cute. That’s not what I meant.” She held out her mug. “Coffee, please?”

Enjolras maintained a fierce glare but grabbed it, coaxing the espresso machine into life and watching on, still half asleep, as the mugs slowly filled.

“You’re the best,” she said, when Enjolras handed her coffee over.

“You’re the worst,” Enjolras countered, cupping the warm mug in his hands, the chill of the morning biting at his skin despite the rumble of the heater in the background.

Helene laughed. “Children.”

“Mother,” Aurelie returned in the same warning tone, turning to Enjolras with a roll of her eyes. “Adrien and R are just getting ready, we’re going to do the quiz when they’re down.”

Enjolras had noticed the sound of the shower on his way downstairs, but hadn’t really registered it. Now, he tightened his grip on his cup, remembering the quiet purr of _blow you in the shower?_ Fuck, that was not a good mental image to have at the breakfast table.

 

* * *

 

“So, what are we up to today?” Grantaire asked, sliding into the chair next to Enjolras. Their hair was damp, and Enjolras resolutely did not imagine what had gone down in that shower. Or who, to be precise.

Enjolras swallowed, shoving that thought from his mind. He hoped his cheeks weren’t as pink as they felt. “Christmas baking.”

Grantaire laughed. “You guys really go all out, huh?”

“You bet,” Combeferre said, appearing over their shoulder, handing out precariously balanced plates of toast and scrambled eggs before they could fall.

“I see Grantaire’s been a good influence,” Delphine said, accepting her plate. She turned to Grantaire and smiled. “Adrien never usually cooks.”

“Really?” Grantaire looked up at their boyfriend. “But you always cook for me.”

Combeferre mumbled something indistinct and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“He was being romantic,” Enjolras confided. “You have no idea how stressed he was when he first had you over without getting takeaway. He practiced everything a thousand times.”

“That’s adorable,” Grantaire said, grinning, as an embarrassed Combeferre took his place at the table and immediately started eating, forestalling any chance of having to respond to further teasing.

“Okay, quiz time, enough cheesy romance,” Aurelie said, picking up the newspaper. “Between Adrien and Grantaire we should have enough weird random facts to win ten times over.”

“You can’t win the newspaper quiz,” Enjolras pointed out.

“ _Aaaaand_ buzzkill Enjolras returns. You can’t win with an attitude like that,” Grantaire said, and once Enjolras might have taken it personally, but now he just laughed and settled in to eat his breakfast.

 

* * *

 

“You’ve got flour on your nose.”

Enjolras looked up at Combeferre, unimpressed. “You’ve got flour on your ass.”

Combeferre twisted around to look at the flour handprint. “ _Grantaire…_ ”

“It was an accident,” Grantaire said, but they were laughing, so their sincerity was in question.

Combeferre took one of Grantaire’s flour-covered hands in his, his expression deeply unimpressed but for the upturn of the corners of his mouth. “I’m sure.”

“Well, in my defence, you have a really nice butt.”

Enjolras agreed, but it was probably a good idea to keep that opinion to himself.

 

* * *

 

Night came again, as it tended to, what with the whole relentless passage of time, and once more Enjolras turned his back away from Combeferre’s bed and waited for sleep to come.

And waited.

And waited.

 

* * *

 

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve,” Aurelie said, nudging a cup across the bench toward Enjolras. “You’re lucky I just made some coffee, or you’d be fending for yourself.”

“You’re a saint,” Enjolras said, “I really need the caffeine. I didn’t sleep so well last night.”

“Oh, honey, come here.” Aurelie held out her arms, and Enjolras rolled his eyes but stepped into them. “You should tell them.”

“I should really not.”

“You’re an idiot. Of the two of us, which one is in a relationship and therefore has more experience?”

Enjolras pulled back. “You’re in a relationship?”

“Dude, I’ve had a girlfriend for, like, three years. This is the queerest family ever, remember?”

“Well, I’m happy for you. Still not going to tell them.”

Aurelie groaned. “You are incredibly frustrating and you’re only hurting yourself.”

“Well,” Enjolras said, giving her an awkward thumbs up, “I _have_ been told I’m emotionally stunted.”

“You’re not,” Aurelie said, patting him on the head. “You’re just scared, and it’s okay. When the time’s right, you’ll know.”

“What if the time’s never right?”

“Well, you’ll just have to be really fucking brave.”

Enjolras screwed up his face. “Great.”

 

* * *

 

There was nothing that was more of a physical manifestation of third wheeling, Enjolras thought,  than having to walk behind two people who were dating since the footpath wouldn’t fit them three wide.

Enjolras shoved his hands into his pockets and tucked his chin into his scarf. Grantaire and Combeferre were in love with each other, and not him. End of story.

At least, that was what Enjolras had convinced himself of until Combeferre turned around in the middle of their conversation to check up on him, stepping onto the nature strip to let Enjolras walk between him and Grantaire. Then Enjolras was just straight up confused.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras was in the middle of shuffling cards for what was bound to be a rather aggressive game of spit with Combeferre when Aurelie dropped herself down next to them, tugging Grantaire’s sketchbook out of their hands.

“Combeferre tells me you play guitar.”

Grantaire froze, looking over at Aurelie, terrified. “Why?”

“Combeferre plays piano for us, but it might be nice to have guitar as well.”

Enjolras put down the cards and groaned. He couldn’t carry a tune to save his life. “Must we do carols?”

Grantaire turned to him. “That’s why you want me to play? Fuck that.”

“Please, ‘Aire,” Aurelie said, pouting. Her eyes were wide and sad and almost exactly the same shade of brown as Combeferre’s. Grantaire didn’t stand a chance. “I’ll love you forever.”

“Ugh. If I must.”

And so, after dinner, lazing around the living room turned to sitting around the piano, Grantaire with a guitar scrounged up from who knew where, and Enjolras learnt a very important thing: Grantaire was very good at playing guitar. Then they started to sing, and Enjolras knew he was gone on them. Their voice was low and husky, and oddly soothing, even in contrast to Combeferre’s smoother tones. 

Combeferre came in on the piano, and Enjolras was, as always, very distracted by his long, elegant fingers. There was no way he was going to last another five days without saying anything.

Unable to escape, Enjolras plastered a smile across his face and kept singing, as though he wasn't being consumed by warring love and envy.

 

* * *

 

“You coming to bed?”

Enjolras looked up at Combeferre, lifting his book. “I’m going to stay down here and read for a bit longer.”

“Goodnight, then,” Combeferre said, turning to leave before pausing. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine, ‘Ferre,” Enjolras replied, but his reassuring smile fell flat. “It’s nothing serious, my brain just doesn’t seem to want to shut up.”

“Well, I know the solution to that.” Combeferre plucked the book out of Enjolras’ hands. “Go get ready for bed, I’ll read to you when you’re ready.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Enjolras protested, but Combeferre was already nudging him towards the stairs.

“I know. I want to. Grantaire’s not going to mind, they’re always down for some Neil Gaiman.”

“If you’re sure.” Enjolras shrugged, but within quarter of an hour found himself drifting off to Combeferre’s voice, just as soothing when speaking as singing, for once facing the bed.

 

Enjolras woke a few hours later, Grantaire and Combeferre’s entwined forms directly in his line of sight, and turned over, waiting for sleep to once more claim him.

 

* * *

 

“Merry Christmas Eve,” Enjolras said, for no other reason than to beat Aurelie to the punch. “Also, good morning.”

“Have I mentioned that you’re the worst recently?” Aurelie asked, nudging Enjolras aside to get to the coffee machine.

“As a matter of fact,” Enjolras said, producing a cup of coffee for Aurelie from behind his back, “you have.”

“I love you.”

Enjolras took a sip from his own mug. “And Combeferre says _I’m_ fickle.”

“My ears are burning.”

Enjolras reached for another cup from the line behind him. “Morning.”

“It is indeed morning,” Combeferre said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “how astute.”

“You two are just full of snark this morning, aren’t you?” Aurelie said, ducking round Enjolras to grab the next mug as Grantaire joined them in the kitchen. “It’s Christmas Eve, get excited!”

“Ugh, I’ll come back when there’s a morning-appropriate level of enthusiasm,” Grantaire said, turning to leave.

“You’re all made for each other,” Aurelie said, and flounced off.

 

* * *

 

“You guys watch ballet?”

Enjolras shrugged. “It’s _The Nutcracker_ , it’s a classic. Cultural insensitivity aside, it’s nice to watch. They’re very talented.”

“Plus the guys have nice butts,” Aurelie added, drinking hot chocolate with her eyes fixed firmly on the screen.

“That too,” Enjolras conceded.

“Ballet dancers _do_ have nice butts,” Combeferre said, taking Grantaire’s hand and tugging on it so they would sit down with him.

“Do we?”

Enjolras swallowed. “You dance?”

Grantaire shrugged, watching the screen, possibly so they didn’t have to meet Enjolras’ eyes. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking.  “Nothing like that, just casual stuff. It’s fun.”

“They’re good,” Combeferre said, nudging Grantaire. “Very flexible.”

“I did not need to know that." Aurelie pulled a face. “Can you do the splits?”

Grantaire nodded, and Enjolras filed away the knowledge in a secret pocket of his brain that he hoped would one day come in handy.

 

* * *

 

“Coffee?”

Enjolras looked up from his book and reached out with grabby hands. “Please.”

Grantaire handed him a mug, placing another on the arm of the couch while they settled down with their sketchbook. “I figured you’d want some, so I made it anyway.”

“Good decision. I always want coffee,” Enjolras said. “Do you have any sketches I can see?”

Grantaire hummed and flipped to a page, holding it out to Enjolras. “This is my cat, Larry. I adopted him, hence the awful name.”

“I love him, and this is amazing.” Enjolras was telling the truth - Grantaire really was talented, for all that they acted self-deprecating. “So you can sing and dance and play guitar and draw. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“So many things,” Grantaire said, offering a smile that didn’t reach their eyes. “I’d list them all, but you really don’t want to hear that, and we probably don’t have the time.”

Shit. Enjolras hadn’t meant to make Grantaire sad. “Hey,” he said, and Grantaire looked up. “Want a hug?”

“I always want hugs,” Grantaire replied, so Enjolras hugged them. There was some kind of floral perfume lingering on their skin, and Enjolras wanted to stay in their arms forever, but that was a really terrible idea.

“Everything okay?”

Enjolras looked up to see Combeferre standing in the doorway, and practically shoved Grantaire away. “Just me being an idiot.”

Grantaire rolled their eyes. “He really wasn’t. My brain was being dumb again, that’s all.”

Combeferre sat on the couch, in the space Enjolras had left between him and Grantaire. “I guess hugs are in order, then?”

Grantaire latched onto Combeferre’s side, and Enjolras almost got up to leave, but Combeferre extended an arm to him as well, and so he let himself pretend that he could have this, just for a moment.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras was napping on the couch, his book open against his chest, when something knocked the book off and sent it crashing to the floor. There was a strange weight on his chest, and he opened his eye to find a cat sitting on him. Not wanting to disturb the cat, he grabbed his phone.

 

_Enjolras_ : do you have a cat that I don’t know about?

 

_Aurelie_ : nope

 

Enjolras heard the pounding of footsteps down the steps, and the cat turned its ears back at the sound. It was a battered old thing, with half an ear missing and scratches over its nose. Aurelie came barrelling into the room, her phone held aloft.

“Oh my God,” she said, taking in the cat sitting on Enjolras. “Where did you come from, kitty?”

The cat looked at her, unimpressed, and started cleaning itself. Enjolras wasn’t sure how he felt about having a cat licking its own ass while sitting on top of him, but he also didn’t want to scare it away.

Grantaire appeared in the room, holding a bowl of leftover chicken. “There you went, kitty. You’re out of cat food, so I hope you don’t mind me scrounging up some stuff. She seemed pretty hungry. What’s her name?”

Enjolras watched as the cat jumped off, using his chest as a launching pad, and ran over to headbutt Grantaire’s shins.

“Grantaire,” Aurelie said, as they put the bowl on the floor. “We don’t have a cat.”

“Ah, fuck,” Grantaire said. The cat started gulping down the food. “I just let a random cat into your house. Sorry.”

“It’s cool.” Aurelie sank down to scratch behind the cat’s ears. It ignored her in favour of the food. “Adrien used to volunteer at the vet down the road but it’s only open for emergencies right now. We’ll take her in when it reopens properly and hopefully there’s someone looking for her, or she’ll find a new home. We can’t keep her long because Maman is allergic, but she’ll just have to make do for the next couple of days. I hope Michelle can get here for Boxing Day, she loves cats.”

“Is that the girlfriend you never told me about? She exists, right?”

“Fuck off, Enjolras,” Aurelie said, but smiled. “But yeah. She's probably not going to be able to make it so I'm going to have to spend the rest of the time bemoaning my loneliness. I need the cat so I can start my cat lady existence.”

 

* * *

 

Combeferre walked into the living room a while later to find them all clustered around the cat on the floor. “Look what you’ve managed to get up to in the small amount of time I wasn’t in this one particular room. Of course.”

“Shut up,” Enjolras said. “Need I remind you of the time you blew up our kitchen? Don’t act like you’re the responsible one.”

“Yeah, fair.” Combeferre sat next to Enjolras, their knees knocking, and took his turn patting the cat. She responded by sinking a claw into his hand.

 

* * *

 

“Someone’s stolen your bed,” Grantaire announced, as Enjolras walked into Combeferre’s bedroom. Sure enough, the cat was curled up on the middle of the blankets.

"You can’t move her,” Combeferre said. He lifted a corner of the sheet. “Come on.”

“You don’t mind?” Enjolras asked, glancing at Grantaire.

“Nah, it’s cool. Maybe we can get ‘Ferre to read to us again.”

"You could also just ask me," Combeferre said, with a fond smile. "Come on, Enjolras."

Enjolras climbed in before they could change their minds. There had been plenty of space for two people, but it was a bit of a squeeze with three of them. Enjolras had never been more uncomfortably comfortable in his life.

“We should get a cat,” Grantaire said, their voice muffled from being so closely pressed against Combeferre. “I like cats.”

“You already have a cat, R,” Enjolras pointed out.

“Yeah, but _we_ should get one. You like cats, right, ange?”

Enjolras wasn’t sure why he was being included in this strangely domestic conversation, or why Grantaire had gone with that nickname. “Yeah,” he said, at a loss for what was the appropriate response, and instead grabbed his book and handed it to Combeferre.

“Okay,” Combeferre said, riffling through the pages. “Where were we?”

For the first time since arriving, Enjolras slept soundly through the night.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras was thankfully the first to wake in the morning, so he could remove the leg he’d slung over Combeferre’s without anyone realising, and slip out from under Combeferre’s warm hand on his side. It was too much, and his chest physically ached for how badly he wanted this to be normal for him, climbing out of his partners’ bed. For once, his want outweighed his fear, but he wasn’t about to wake the two of them up to confess his feelings for them.

Grantaire was pressed up against Combeferre’s back, little of them visible but dark curls spilled over their pillow. Enjolras, not wanting to be creepy, turned away and looked for his jumper.

Nobody else was awake yet, so Enjolras was quiet as he waited for the espresso machine to sputter to life, placing a bowl of leftovers down for the cat when she came running downstairs to meow at him.

“This is your fault,” he mumbled, but he couldn’t really be mad at her, since he’d got to spend the night cuddled up to Combeferre, and in the same bed as Grantaire.

He watched her eat, before remembering what day it was, and pulled out his phone to wish everyone in the group chat that celebrated the holiday a merry Christmas. Feuilly responded promptly, and Bahorel was next, although he was complaining about the early hour and Enjolras monopolising his boyfriend’s attention rather than responding with any sense of festive spirit. Enjolras tried not to think about how much more pleasant it would have been to wake up to a situation like Bahorel’s, staying tangled with Combeferre’s body, wishing him and Grantaire a merry Christmas between exchanging lazy kisses.

The light on the coffee machine flicked on, and Enjolras set aside his fantasy, thankful that he had this much at all.

 

* * *

 

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Enjolras looked up, greeting prepared, but his mind went blank as Grantaire stepped into the room.

They were wearing one of those Santa skirts that always reminded Enjolras of _Mean Girls_ , short and red and trimmed with white faux fur, although they’d caved to sensibility and were wearing an emerald knitted jumper and over-the-knee socks to combat the chill. A Santa hat was perched on top of their messy curls.

“Merry Christmas!” they called, dragging Combeferre behind them by the hand. Combeferre was wearing reindeer antlers, and carried an elf hat, which he handed to Enjolras. He was, unfortunately - although, perhaps fortunately, for the sake of Enjolras’ feelings - in his usual skinny jeans and sensible jumper. Enjolras doubted he would have been able to handle both of them in skirts that were barely long enough to be appropriate for a family celebration.

Enjolras sighed, but put the hat on, thankful for something to distract him from the inches of bare thigh between the tops of Grantaire’s socks and the hem of their skirt. The fact that Combeferre had pushed up his jumper sleeves wasn’t helping things, since Combeferre’s forearms were a weakness of Enjolras.

“Merry Christmas,” Enjolras eventually managed, dragging his gaze up to Grantaire and Combeferre's faces. “I could talk about the more sinister commercial reasons for the dominance of Christmas and stuff, but I think I’ll just put the hat on.”

“Picking your battles. Wise,” Combeferre said. He tugged Enjolras to his feet. “Come on, Christmas hug.”

“That’s not a thing,” Enjolras said, but let Combeferre pull him in for a hug, and then hand him off to Grantaire, who once again smelled of flowers. Come to think of it, so did Combeferre - their scents were indistinguishable after a night spent twined together. Enjolras didn’t know how he was going to make it through the day if it was going to continue like this.

“Grantaire, how dare you!”

Enjolras quickly stepped away from them as Aurelie entered the room.

Grantaire froze. “What have I done?”

“Your skirt is shorter than mine. That’s not allowed.”

“Oh.” Grantaire laughed. “I thought it was something serious. Sorry.”

“I’ll permit it, since it looks great,” Aurelie said, and nudged Combeferre. “You did good, little bro.”

Helene and Delphine came into the kitchen not much later, still in dressing gowns and rubbing their eyes.

“I suppose we’d better do presents, since everyone’s up,” Helene said. “We can have breakfast after. Try not to eat everything in your stockings before you have some proper food as well.”

“No promises, Mum.” Aurelie gave each of her mothers a kiss on the cheek, and dashed off to find her stocking.

 

* * *

 

They all exchanged gifts, and soon everyone had an unopened pile of presents next to them. It was tradition to take it in turns to open their presents, and Enjolras grabbed a package from Courfeyrac first, a safe bet. They had done an anonymous seasonal gift exchange amongst Les Amis a week or so ago, but Courfeyrac always made sure to send Enjolras and Combeferre off with presents of his own. Enjolras had spotted Joly’s messy doctor’s script on an envelope in Grantaire’s pile, so at least Grantaire wouldn’t be alone without extra friend presents.

Courfeyrac had given Enjolras a Christmas jumper, a truly hideous thing, but Enjolras stripped off his old jumper to put it on nonetheless, grinning all the while.

From Combeferre, Enjolras received a book about protest movements he’d been wanting to read for some time, and in return Enjolras gave him a dry tome about entomology, the interest of which was beyond him but obviously not Combeferre. It was tradition that they exchanged books every year, and Enjolras hoped Combeferre loved his book as much as Enjolras loved his own.

“It’s not much, sorry,” Grantaire said, as Enjolras started on his gift from them. “I didn’t know what else to get you.”

It was a sketch of Les Amis, happy and laughing at their usual set of tables at the Musain. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were at the front of the room, along with Enjolras, surrounded by their friends, with one notable absence.

“Thank you,” Enjolras said, clutching it to his chest.

Grantaire shrugged it off uncomfortably. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” Enjolras said, “although I wish you’d put yourself in it. You deserve to be there.”

Grantaire cast their gaze down. “I…” they sighed, glancing at Combeferre, searching for words. “I guess I’ll know for next time.”

Combeferre didn’t say anything, just reached down to take Grantaire’s hand, and Enjolras clenched his own fingers around the picture frame.

Enjolras’ own gift to Grantaire was well-received - he hadn’t known what to get them, but he’d been having knitting sessions with Feuilly recently, and Grantaire’s old beanie was starting to fall apart. Enjolras’ attempt was a little lopsided, but Grantaire eagerly jammed it on their head as soon as they unwrapped it, the pompom bobbing, after ripping off the Santa hat.

“You look beautiful,” Combeferre said, and kissed them on the cheek. “My turn to open your present.”

“If you don’t like it, I can change it for you,” Grantaire said, as Combeferre pulled away the wrapping paper from a flat package. “It’s just an idea.”

It was a drawing, although entirely different from the one they’d given Enjolras - scientific sketches of animals and plants, all detailed and labelled and somehow artfully incorporated into a single piece.

“It’s not just a sketch. The tattooing is included, I know someone who- Sorry, you can read, it says that in the card. I-”

Combeferre shut them up with a kiss. “Thank you,” he said, when he pulled away. “I love it.”

“I’m glad.” Grantaire was definitely blushing. “My turn.” They opened the box Combeferre had given them, and Enjolras’ nose was assaulted by an overwhelming array of scents.

“Jehan mentioned you like bath bombs, so I thought I’d get you a few.” Enjolras had been in the apartment when that conversation happened, and he knew it was more than Grantaire just liking them - they used them to wind down when they had a particularly bad day, or at least when they could afford them.

“A few?” Grantaire looked up at Combeferre and laughed. “Did you buy out an entire Lush store?”

Combeferre shrugged. “It’s not as personal or amazing as your present, but I hope you like it.”

“I love it,” Grantaire said. “I love _you_.”

Enjolras turned away and fiddled with the pages of his new book. He hated that he couldn’t just be happy for them, that he had to feel this hot wash of jealousy whenever they had a moment like that together. It was especially frustrating because he was still happy for them, and he liked seeing them together. Everything swirled together in a weird mix of emotions, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to feel, apart from confused.

 

* * *

 

“I got you something else, as well.”

Enjolras paused outside Combeferre’s door, not wanting to interrupt.

“You didn’t have to,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras heard paper rustling. “ _Oh my._ ”

“What do you think?” Combeferre’s voice was low and rough. Enjolras wondered what he’d got them, but it wasn’t too difficult to figure out what kind of present it was - there were only so many things you would want to give your partner in private.

Grantaire cleared their throat. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun using them,” they said, confirming Enjolras’ suspicions.

“So do I,” Combeferre said. Enjolras heard them start to kiss, and padded back downstairs as quietly as he could. Putting his presents away could wait.

 

* * *

 

“Hey.”

Enjolras looked up from his new book to see Combeferre standing at the end of the couch, holding the cat and waving one of her paws at him.

“Hi, kitty.” Enjolras sat up and set his book aside so he could scratch the cat behind her ears. “What’s up?”

“You enjoying the new book?” Combeferre asked, coming around the couch to sit next to Enjolras, carefully arranging the cat in his lap, only to have her run away the second he let go.

“It’s great, it’s really interesting.” _You know me so well_ , Enjolras almost said, but decided it wasn’t quite the right thing to say.

“I’m glad,” Combeferre said. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy your present just as much.” He’d set his book on the coffee table before, and now grabbed it, tucking his feet up on the couch as he started to read. Grantaire came down not much later, sitting on the floor in front of Combeferre with some vaguely familiar fantasy novel they’d stolen from Combeferre’s bookshelves. Combeferre’s hand came down to rest in Grantaire’s hair, and Enjolras felt the familiar twinge of warmth and jealousy.

He was thankfully distracted by the arrival of Aurelie, who nudged them all into the kitchen to help prepare lunch, where Delphine and Helene were already blasting Christmas songs, singing along in accented English.

The warmth in Enjolras’ chest calmed to a softer, more bearable heat, and Enjolras was, as he was every year, struck by how lucky he was to have this. Before, Christmas had been an uptight, formal affair, so far removed from this messier, happier holiday. Enjolras sometimes had a vague inkling of regret for his relationship with his biological family, but it was more for what could have been, and this year, he brushed the thought aside as soon as it passed his mind.

 

* * *

 

Lunch lasted so long it turned into dinner, with mulled wine served throughout the afternoon and evening. For once, Grantaire was the one with admirable restraint, and Enjolras wondered if they were cutting back, but not for long, because as Christmas Day wore on, the world took on a softer, alcohol-affected haze.

In other words, Enjolras was drunk. Not _too_ drunk, nowhere near vomiting and falling over drunk, but he was definitely past sober.

They had all abandoned the dishes for another time, mountains of leftovers safe in the fridge, and Enjolras was on the living room floor watching some TV show’s Christmas special, the plot of which was currently escaping him.

“Are you alright?”

Enjolras turned at the sound of Grantaire’s voice, holding up his mulled wine. “I’m _so good_. I love Christmas.”

Grantaire laughed. “So, you’re completely hammered, then.”

“Enjolras just gets like this sometimes,” Combeferre said.

“Drunk off his ass?”

“In love with the world and everything in it,” Combeferre replied, placing an arm around Enjolras after being tackled into a hug. “It’s when he gets sad that you know he’s actually drunk. This is just tipsy.”

Enjolras thought it was very, very important that Combeferre knew that Enjolras loved people so much, but people could be disappointing sometimes, and that was why they had to keep working to make things better.

“I know, Enjolras,” Combeferre said, and Enjolras caught the look he exchanged with Grantaire. “How about we take a break from the wine?”

“Okay, ‘Ferre.” Enjolras turned to bury his face against Combeferre’s chest. “You’re so smart. Grantaire is so lucky. But Grantaire is great, so you’re lucky too. You’re both wonderful.”

“And you were saying he wasn’t that drunk.”

Enjolras felt Combeferre patting his hair. “He really loves his friends, you know. He baked Feuilly a friendship cake once.”

“Of course he did.” Grantaire’s voice moved closer, and Enjolras looked up to find them standing above him. “Okay, drunky, let’s get you some food and water.”

Enjolras turned back to Combeferre’s chest. “No more food, _please_.”

“Water it is. Maybe coffee.”

Enjolras perked up. “Coffee?”

 

* * *

 

Several glasses of water and a mug of coffee - and a couple of trips to the bathroom - later, Enjolras was lying awake in his trundle bed, while Combeferre and Grantaire were silent, presumably asleep. There was, unfortunately, no cat around to give him a reason to sleep in Combeferre’ bed tonight. The alcohol’s effects had worn off, but not the caffeine’s, and Enjolras was once more sleepless.

Enjolras sat up, vaguely planning on finding his headphones and listening to a podcast or something.

“I can’t sleep either. I wasn’t sure if you were awake or not.” Grantaire got out of bed, the golden glow of the streetlight through the thin curtains playing making their outline just visible. “Can I come sit down? I don’t want to wake Combeferre.”

“Sure.” Enjolras moved back, shivering at the cold night air, and Grantaire settled on the opposite end of the mattress, their legs brushing Enjolras’ under the blankets as they took refuge from the chill. “What’s going on?”

Grantaire shrugged. “I don’t know, I just feel like I don’t belong here. Combeferre’s so wonderful, and you’re so- and I’m just. Me.”

“Come here.” Enjolras met Grantaire halfway in a hug, tucking his chin over their shoulder. It was comfortable, and Enjolras didn’t want to pull away, but he had to. “You’re wonderful, R, and Combeferre adores you. He’s been so happy since you two started dating.”

“Really?”

Enjolras nodded. “Really. But this is something you should talk to ‘Ferre about, not me.”

“I know, I just-” Grantaire broke off and raked a hand through their curls. “He has to deal with enough of my shit, you know? I don’t want to burden him.”

“You’re not a burden.”

“Thanks,” Grantaire said, but it rang hollow.

“Seriously.” Enjolras went in for a hug again, and Grantaire looked up at him with wide, soft eyes, and Enjolras didn’t know how it happened but he ended up with his lips on Grantaire’s. It was incredible for a long moment, even if they were just frozen there, until Enjolras came to his senses and pulled away. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Grantaire said. “I wanted that.”

“But Combeferre-”

“I’m alright with it.” Enjolras turned at the sound of the voice to find Combeferre sitting up in bed, very much awake. “Like, you have no idea how alright I am with it.”

“Combeferre, I-” Enjolras stammered, but Combeferre waved it off.

“Come up here? Both of you?”

Enjolras rose up on shaky legs, helped by Grantaire, who offered a reassuring smile, and somehow made his way over to the bed without collapsing.

“Can I kiss you as well?”

Enjolras nodded, words failing him, and let himself be pulled into Combeferre’s lap. Grantaire’s hand was warm on his back, and his head spun as Combeferre kissed him. The kiss deepened, and Enjolras had no idea what was going on, but Grantaire’s lips were fixed to his neck, and their hands were drifting awfully close to his ass.

“Grantaire-” Enjolras said, turning toward them, and Grantaire was the one to capture his mouth in a kiss this time.

“Is this okay?” Grantaire asked, when they pulled away to catch their breath. Their fingers were toying with the edge of Enjolras’ pyjama pants. Combeferre’s hands started to slide up under the edge of his t-shirt.

“Fuck, yes.”

 

* * *

 

Enjolras woke in the morning feeling _fantastic_. His body ached in a pleasant, well-used way, the bed was comfortable, and despite being completely naked, he was toasty warm under the covers.

His eyes snapped open. _Oh, shit_. He’d slept with Combeferre and Grantaire last night.

That had definitely not been the plan.

Careful not to wake the two of them, he slipped out of bed, shivering in the cold morning air until he could relocate his pyjamas. It was Boxing Day, and usually he’d be so excited to drink hot chocolate and eat leftovers and play board games all day, but he couldn’t face the two of them right now.

The house was quiet as he walked through it, and he grabbed a blanket off the couch before heading outside. The sun was just beginning to rise, and Enjolras was surprisingly awake, considering he couldn’t have had more than a couple of hours of sleep. Then again, freaking out because you slept with one of your best friends and his partner tended to wake you up.

He pulled out his phone and did what he always did when confronted with an emotionally confusing situation: he called Courfeyrac.

“Enjolras, darling, I love you, but this had better be fucking important.”

“Hello to you too, Courfeyrac.”

Enjolras could almost hear Courfeyrac’s glare. “Stop stalling and tell me what’s wrong.”

“I, uh-” Enjolras swallowed. “I had sex with Combeferre and Grantaire last night.”

“Oh, shit.” Enjolras heard the rustle of sheets as Courfeyrac no doubt got out of bed. “Sorry, sweetheart, go back to sleep.”

“I assume you’re not talking to me.”

“Don’t sass me, mister, not when I’m doing you a favour. And you woke Marius, if you must know.”

“Sorry. I’m just…”

“Freaking the fuck out?”

Enjolras sighed. “Yeah.”

“Why don’t you go back in there and climb into that nice warm bed and talk it out like sensible adults at a reasonable hour in the morning?”

“Hmm, tempting.” Enjolras pretended to consider. “Or I could book a train ticket and get out of here before they even wake up.”

“What? Enjolras, no! That is a terrible idea.”

“I know, I just… I really like them, Courf.”

“Then go and tell them that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I should, I just-”

“Of course I’m right. I love you, but you’re being an idiot. Goodbye, Enjolras.” Courfeyrac hung up before Enjolras could respond in kind.

Enjolras locked his phone and sighed, breathing in the cold morning air. He was going to go back in there, he just needed a minute to collect himself. _Be really fucking brave._

“You were thinking of leaving?”

Enjolras glanced up. Combeferre was standing in the doorway, wearing only a pair of boxers. He looked absolutely freezing. “Not actually. Running’s just easier than facing your feelings sometimes, you know?”

“I know. Will you come inside?” Combeferre held out a hand.

“Alright,” Enjolras said, and took Combeferre’s hand, letting himself be led back upstairs. “You didn’t have to come after me, you know. I would have come back.”

“I know,” Combeferre said, smiling, and squeezed Enjolras’ hand. “But I wanted to make sure you’re okay. I care about you, Enjolras, and not just in a friendly way.”

“Same for me. Not sure I would have chosen that phrasing, though.”

“As a friend, then. It’s early. Shut up.”

Enjolras smiled. “Make me.” Combeferre did.

“Come on, Grantaire is waiting,” Combeferre said, after the kiss. “They were worried about you.”

Something warm fluttered in Enjolras’ chest. “Sorry.”

“I’m sure you’ll find some way make it up to them.”

Grantaire was sitting up in bed when Enjolras and Combeferre made it back, chewing their lip, fingers fidgeting with the covers. “Hey,” they said, and held out their hand.

Combeferre nudged Enjolras, and Enjolras let Grantaire pull him down onto the bed. “I should-” Enjolras whispered, and paused as Grantaire slipped an arm around him, holding him close. “I should tell you…”

“Tell me what?” Grantaire asked, their lips brushing Enjolras’ ear on the way to his neck.

“I like you. And Combeferre. Like’s not a strong enough word, but I haven’t let myself have the chance to fall in love with you yet. I don’t think it’s going to be very hard.”

Combeferre slipped into the bed and gave each of them a kiss. “Same for us.”

“Indeed,” Grantaire said, shifting so they were lying down, Enjolras cradled against their chest, Combeferre on Enjolras’ other side. “As nice as this is, I really just want to sleep because _someone_ decided to get out of bed at ass o’clock in the morning.”

“Sorry,” Enjolras said, voice muffled and lips almost pressed to Grantaire’s sternum.

“It’s alright,” Grantaire said, and dropped a kiss to the top of Enjolras’ sleep-mussed curls. “You’re here now.”

 

* * *

 

“I have to go,” Combeferre said, and Enjolras blinked drowsily at him, his eyes dry from lack of sleep. “We’re visiting Aunt Carol and her family, I’ll be back in the afternoon.”

Grantaire groaned. “It’s too early, don’t go.”

“I have to,” Combeferre said, extricating himself and leaning down to kiss Enjolras and Grantaire. “I’d much rather stay here, believe me, but I can’t.”

“We’ll miss you,” Grantaire said, and reached for Enjolras, tangling their legs together.

Enjolras tucked himself against Grantaire’s chest happily, his head under their chin. “We’ll keep the bed warm for you.”

Combeferre threw his clothes on, and came back to the bed for one last kiss each. “I really wish I could stay.”

Enjolras smiled, remembering last night, or rather this morning, and Combeferre’s words. “I’m sure you can make it up to us.” But for now, he had to make up for worrying Grantaire. Well… maybe they could sleep a little longer first. But later, making up (and making out) was going to happen.

“This isn’t weird, is it? Without Combeferre?”

Enjolras shook his head, feeling the cold tip of his nose rub against Grantaire’s warm skin. “I like the idea of having you to myself for a while. Combeferre’s had his turn, and I’ve had Combeferre for all these years, even if it’s in a different way.”

“And what does having me to yourself entail?” Grantaire’s voice was warm and gravelly, and Enjolras suppressed a shiver. He slid one of his legs higher, until his thigh was slotted between Grantaire’s, their hips pressed together. “Sleep. For now.”

Grantaire laughed, and lightly pushed Enjolras’ leg away, even though they were growing hard against him. “You might want to tone that down, then, or I’ll be too worked up to sleep.”

“Mmkay,” Enjolras sighed, and placed a final kiss on Grantaire’s sternum. “I’ll be good.”

Grantaire let out a shaky voice. “That does not help this situation, Enjolras.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” Enjolras said, head on Grantaire’s chest, listening to the frantic beat of their heart gradually slow.

“Hmm?” Grantaire sounded half-asleep, a goofy smile spread across their face. Enjolras climbed up their body to kiss it into something more awed and breathless. “Know what?”

“That I had feelings for you. You thought I didn’t like you, but I _did_ , and that was the problem. I mean, I still do, but it’s not a problem anymore. I wanted to hate you for being with Combeferre, but I couldn’t, and then almost I tried to hate you for making me like you, but I like you too much for that.”

Grantaire laughed, their body shaking under Enjolras. “I can’t believe you’re real sometimes. And not in an incredible, godlike manner, like I once would have said, but in a _wow, what a dork_ kind of way.”

“I like that kind of way better.”

“So do I.”

 

* * *

 

Combeferre came home that afternoon to find Enjolras and Grantaire still in bed, curled around each other. “Did you get up at all?”

Enjolras turned over to face Combeferre, propping his chin up on his hand, letting his contentment show on his face. “I mean, we got some food and went to the bathroom and stuff.”

“So basically no, then.” Combeferre smiled indulgently. “Come on, Aurelie’s getting board games out and Maman is making hot chocolate.”

“Your family’s Christmas is the most magical fucking cliche,” Grantaire said, and got out of bed, dragging Enjolras with them.

Enjolras stole the jumper Combeferre had borrowed from Grantaire, and when they finally made it downstairs, Aurelie sent him a thumbs up, making him blush. Thankfully Helene and Delphine weren’t in the room to notice, and though they didn’t say anything when they entered bearing hot chocolate, Enjolras had the feeling they knew what was going on. The jumper kind of made things obvious.

“We’re happy for you, honey,” Delphine said, when she pulled Enjolras aside later that evening, just as everyone was retiring to bed. “All of you.”

Alright, Enjolras concluded, they definitely knew. “You don’t mind?”

Delphine shook her head. “We just want to see you happy, and you are. That’s all that matters to us.”

Enjolras swept her into a hug, blinking away hot tears. He hated to think what the family he’d left behind would think of him dating two people, but he wasn’t surprised to find that he didn’t care in the slightest. This was his family, right here. One of his families; he had all of his friends back in Paris who would no doubt have a lot to say about his new relationship. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Aurelie was the next to talk to Enjolras about it, albeit in a slightly different manner.

“Jesus,” she said, “I know I made that joke about coming between them, but I did not need to bear witness to it.”

“There’s a reason you’re meant to wait between knocking and opening the door, you know,” Enjolras said. They’d all dived for the sheets, limbs flying everywhere, far too much skin on full display as Aurelie turned around and covered her eyes, shouting _sorry_ over and over. Enjolras had been the one to find clothes - Combeferre’s reindeer pyjama pants, and the Christmas jumper Courfeyrac had sent him - and scramble after her, Combeferre too embarrassed and Grantaire too unfamiliar. “But I am sorry you had to see that.”

“Me too,” Aurelie said, covering her eyes again as if it could block the memory. “I was going to congratulate you, but I think I need some time.”

“I am so sorry,” Enjolras said, even if it wasn’t his fault.

“I’m just going to go. God, this is why I wish my girlfriend was here, this would never have happened if I'd been able to spend all my time with her being all gross. Have fun, or whatever. Use condoms.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, that was awkward.”

“Yep.”

“Want to keep going?”

“...yeah.”

 

* * *

 

And then, all too soon and yet not soon enough, it was time to leave. Enjolras was glad to be able to have some time to just him, Grantaire and Combeferre, time to figure out the newly formed relationship between them. At the same time, Enjolras didn’t want to break the idyllic spell of Christmas, and he didn’t want to have to leave Helene, Delphine, and Aurelie so soon.

“Let me guess,” Grantaire said, nudging a bleary-eyed Enjolras, “you’re going to sleep for most of the trip home.”

“I can’t help it, I just fall asleep in cars without meaning to. Besides, it’s your fault for keeping me up late,” Enjolras grumbled, helping load their bags into the car. “Both of your faults. I’m not a morning person.”

“You weren’t complaining last night.”

Enjolras could feel his cheeks turn pink. “Shut up.”

“No, don’t,” Combeferre said, nudging Grantaire. “He’s cute when he blushes.”

That only made Enjolras blush harder, and Combeferre pecked his cheek. “See? Cute.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Grantaire kissed Enjolras’ other cheek. “You tell the truth. Both of you.”

“You’re _both_ ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Grantaire conceded, with a grin, “but you still like us.”

“Shut up,” Enjolras repeated, without heat. “Shall we go in and say our goodbyes?”

They left after a multitude of hugs, Combeferre’s mothers pressing containers of leftovers into their hands. Things were quiet on the road, and Enjolras was suddenly aware of every facet of his relationship with Combeferre and Grantaire, overthinking anything and everything he could have said.

Combeferre met his eyes in the rearview mirror, offering a gentle smile, dulling the edge of the silence.

“Going back is going to be weird,” Grantaire said, eventually. They could have been driving for minutes or hours before they spoke; Enjolras wouldn’t have been able to tell. “I want things to stay perfect and happy.”

“We’ll have to work at it,” Combeferre said, briefly taking his hand off the steering wheel to cover Grantaire’s hand, which was once more placed on his thigh. “But I think we can be good together, so long as we actually, you know, talk.”

“We’ll be alright,” Enjolras said, and for once Grantaire didn’t call him out on his optimism. “Things won’t be the same as this past week, but that doesn’t mean things have to be bad. It’s worth putting the effort in, for you two.”

 

* * *

 

They dropped Grantaire off at the apartment they shared with Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta, so they could put away their stuff and take a proper shower, with promises that Grantaire would come over later that night.

And then Enjolras was alone with Combeferre, the first extended period of time alone together without Grantaire for a week. Enjolras didn’t know how to act.

“You’ve gone quiet again.” Combeferre didn’t take his eyes off the road, but Enjolras could feel concern radiating off of him.

“Sorry. I don’t know how to do relationships,” Enjolras admitted. “Everything seems so different.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I’m still me, and that hasn’t changed.”

Enjolras smiled. “Sorry,” he said again, “I do still want this, you know.”

“I’m glad,” Combeferre said, glancing across at him for a moment, then concentrating on driving again. “Things don’t have to be so different, you know. It can just be us hanging out with Grantaire, but with more kissing, and stuff.”

“And stuff?”

“You’re a dreadful tease,” Combeferre said, beautiful as he smiled. “But seriously, talk to me or Grantaire if you’re unsure about anything at all, no matter how small or silly it may seem.”

“I do have one request. Can I see you in Grantaire’s Santa skirt?”

Combeferre laughed. “Only if I get to see you wear it as well.”

“Deal.”

They spent the rest of the drive home in silence, but the tension had dissipated, and Enjolras glanced over at Combeferre every now and then. He couldn’t quite work up the nerve to place his hand on Combeferre’s thigh like Grantaire had done, but he didn’t particularly mind.

 

* * *

 

“I’m going to have a shower,” Combeferre said, when they’d made it home and put away their things, a load of washing already in the machine. “Care to join me?” He extended a hand, and Enjolras took it.

“I’d love to.”

They didn’t do much, bodies warm against each other under the spray of water. Enjolras’ tiredness returned in full force, and he mostly leant against Combeferre as they ran soapy hands over each other, occasionally exchanging a lazy kiss.

“Bed?” Combeferre asked, when they were towelled off. Without his glasses, hair damp and messy, he was unpolished and lovely. He was also naked, apart from the towel slung around his hips, which was always a plus.

“Bed,” Enjolras agreed. Courfeyrac hadn’t come home yet, still away at Marius’ grandfather’s house along with Cosette, so he couldn’t make fun of them scurrying half naked, hand in hand, into Combeferre’s bedroom.

“As much as I would like to seduce in your own bed,” Enjolras said, barely covering a yawn, “I’m exhausted.”

“It’s okay,” Combeferre said, climbing under the covers and giving Enjolras a nice view of his naked butt, “sleeping’s good too.”  
Enjolras climbed in after him. He’d slept in Combeferre’s bed before, but it was different now, and not just because they were nude. Combeferre’s arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him close. Everything felt safe and warm, and Enjolras found himself drifting off within minutes.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras was woken by his and Combeferre’s phones going off almost simultaneously, and groaned, burying his face against Combeferre’s chest. “Tell them to fuck off.”

“It’s Grantaire, so that’s probably not a good idea.”

“Hmm, probably.” Enjolras clung tighter to Combeferre. “What’s up?”

“They’re on their way over, they’ll be here in twenty minutes and say not to get started without them.”

Enjolras rolled on top of Combeferre. “No promises. Do they have a key?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell them to let themselves in.”

 

* * *

 

Enjolras was so close to being asleep, but one thing was on his mind: “We should probably tell everyone about us.”

Grantaire made a noise of discontent. “I was just about to fall asleep. Unlike some people, I didn’t have a nice afternoon nap.”

Enjolras kissed them. “Sorry. But are you guys okay if I say something in the group chat?”

“Yeah, whatever, as long as you’re quiet about it.”

“Charming,” Combeferre said.

“That’s me.”

Enjolras suppressed a laugh and fired off a quick message to the group chat.

 

 _ Enjolras: _ btw I’m dating Combeferre and Grantaire. just thought you all might want to know

 

Combeferre laughed, seeing the message on his phone. “I can’t wait to see everyone’s reactions to that message. No preamble whatsoever. That’s great.”

“Hey, I said _by the way_.”

Grantaire opened their eyes. “I might have to stay awake to see our friends lose their collective shit.”

Sure enough, they did, a barrage of _holy shit_ and _what the fuck_ and _I knew it!!_ lighting up their phones.

“So, it’s official.” Grantaire stretched over Combeferre to place their phone on the bedside table. “Can I sleep now?”

 

* * *

 

Everyone who had been away for Christmas came back over the next few days, and nearly everyone was free, since everything was closed in the break between Christmas and New Year’s. This resulted in various hangouts, parties, and sleepovers, culminating in a New Year’s party at Marius’ apartment, which had the best view of the fireworks.

“So how does the New Year’s kiss work with three people?” Combeferre asked, pouring out champagne for everyone.

Grantaire snorted. “It doesn’t. There was almost a dental emergency when JBM tried. What with Bossuet and all, they’re lucky it was an _almost._ ”

“Noted.” Combeferre winced. “Whoever’s in the middle gets a cheek kiss on each side?”

“Not ideal,” Enjolras said, “but I’ll take it.”

And so, when everyone was tipsy on champagne and calling out a countdown slightly out of sync with the people on the balcony above them, Enjolras found himself squished up against Combeferre, who had Grantaire pressed to his other side.

It was almost anticlimactic, screaming out _one_ before rising up on his tiptoes to kiss Combeferre’s cheek, but then the fireworks started, and the people he loved were smiling in a ridiculous way.

 _Oh_. Something inside of Enjolras gave. He hadn’t been with Combeferre and Grantaire long, but he’d been sitting on his feelings for ages before he’d acknowledged them, let alone done something about them, so maybe it was time to be proactive for once.

“Fuck it,” he said, and Combeferre and Grantaire turned to look at him. “I love you both.”

Enjolras thought he heard Courfeyrac yell something along the lines of _about time_ in the background, but he didn’t particularly care, with the people he was in love with looking at him like that, how they lit up like the fireworks in the sky. It was a new year, and there were promising things to come.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is literally so sappy but I have no shame!! I'm willowveild on tumblr if you want to come cry with me over these nerds :)


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